Fighting for Your Reward
by W.O.Poetry
Summary: A young Harry is left on Privet Drive, but with more than one extra soul and a strong affection for trouble and a tall, dark clad Professor. With only echoes of another's memories to guide him, will he get what he truly want? Warning: Slash, Nice!Dursleys
1. Trying to Remember

**Disclaimer: I do not in any way own or claim to own any rights to Harry Potter. Characters, places and other stuff belongs to J.K. Rowling and Warner Entertainment. **

****AN: This is my first try to write a FF. I've only leached of others for way to long, and finally felt that I should try to ad to the wounderful and addictive universe which FanFiction provide. I hope you'll enjoy it :) But if you don't, then I would suggest that you stop reading this and read something which actually can claim to contain some kind of established quality. Like a nice crossover by **esama** or perhaps **_Theri Verdict of Vagaries_** by **Angstier**. Or even better: Google **Maldoror** and read some of her enthralling FF. Or Mabye **Caecelia**s _**Elective** **Affinities**_. For those who like Gundam Wing I could also recomend **In2lalaland**, a fellow swede who knows what she likes to write about..

They all inspire my efforts to write and I will try to keep a high standard in this fic for that inspiration. I apologise beforhand on all the misstakes which may have crept in, please report them, and I'll see if I can have them fixed. Unless if their acctually suposed to be there :P I can not make any promisses on regularity on future chapters but I will try not to make it go to long betwen chapters.

Warning: This story will contain **slash** in time and other ordinarily strange things. Have fun!

This have been Betaed by Degenerate

**Fighting for your reward **

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**Chapter One: Trying to remember**

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Harry...

His name was Harry.

It was hard to hold on to the thought in the tunnel of light. His name, all the other things were slipping away, but somehow his name was more important. But not in his own voice. It was important when someone else spoke it. A voice containing... something...

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A baby was left on the front porch of Privet drive No.4. A baby that was still struggling to assemble his thoughts when Mrs. Dursley opened the door to fetch the newspaper. Her surprised scream cleared away some of the fog that invaded his brain, and one thought occurred.

_I know her! I've done this before! Why..? _

As the woman brought the child inside and read the letter that had been in the baby's blanket, the baby kept quiet. When the woman started to cry, he was surprised, and then he was surprised that he was surprised. Apparently something was wrong with the picture, yet he didn't know what. He did the first thing that came to his mind. He reached for her with his arms, but they didn't reach. He then tried to unravel the blanket that was secured around his body, in order to walk closer to her. But somehow his limbs didn't want to obey his command, which was infuriating, but somehow he knew that this discomfort wasn't what made her cry and he didn't like to see a woman cry. Some part of him wondered if he liked to see men cry, but it didn't seem important right now. Since he was trapped, he tried to convey his intentions with words, but what should have sounded like: "Don't Cry", instead came out as;

"Wahguwa!"

Which seemed to at least get her attention. She reached for a paper napkin from a stand on the kitchen table, and tried to collect herself while she dried here tears and things that were not ever mentioned pouring out of a lady's nose. He held his arms in her general direction and tried a different approach:

"Ughie!"

Somehow he felt a deep shame for not being able to control his voice. It was as if he failed in every intention and that he would become a burden if he didn't straightened up, very fast. He didn't like to be a burden.

The woman however didn't seem concerned for that and still sniffling; she unwrapped him from the blanket. She held him close as she felt around his bottom, which he didn't appreciate. He gave of an indignant sound, that is to say that his mouth still didn't want to cooperate with him, and that was the best he could do in these circumstances.

"Nope," the woman said. "Your diaper is clean. Are you hungry?" She went for the saucepan that stood in the plate rack. With expertly moves, she began to prepare babyformula, now for two boys instead of one, while still holding in the child that desperately tried to figure out what was going on. He knew this woman and he felt that this scenario was wrong, but in what manner he didn't know. There were many pieces to this puzzle. First, he was dead sure that he really should be better at controlling his body. Second, he knew that this woman was not supposed to cry in grief, nor hold him like if she was his mother...

Another part of him told him that the size definitely matched that of a baby in the woman's arms. Which was disturbing somehow, but he couldn't say that he didn't like it, he most definitely did. He felt like if he hadn't been embraced in a lifetime, and now he practically swam in it. But if he wasn't supposed to be in this size, what size was he supposed to be in normally? He certainly hoped that it wasn't a smaller one. Being this small compared to the woman, he just seemed so vulnerable. Was he supposed to be strong and protective? Was he supposed to protect this woman and had he somehow failed? Was that why she cried? Was his present condition a result of his failure? Somehow he didn't think so. Or perhaps that was just his ego, telling him that he of all people couldn't fail. That thought was most disturbing.

Not before long the woman had put the babyformula in two feeding bottles. She then placed the child in a high chair next to the table.

"Now be a sweet boy and wait here. I'll just go and wake your uncle Vernon, and fetch your cousin Dudley. And we'll all eat breakfast together. Be back in a minute."

With that she left him. Once again he was trapped in something that his body just couldn't get out of. His mind circled around 'Uncle Vernon' and 'Cousin Dudley'. A part of him wanted to hide at the mention of these. The same part that were confused over the woman's behavior, but he didn't know why. Had he meet them all before? At least the woman?

He decided that these feelings concerning the woman weren't nice and he didn't like them. She might not understand the message that he was trying to convey, but in all fairness neither did he. How could she understand what he was trying to say if it didn't even came out as words! It was clear that some basic exercising was in dire need here. So he began by looking at things and as he searched his mind for the identification of the various objects around him, he tried to pronounce the words. A few words weren't too far off mark, but not close enough. Once again he began to wonder if he'd been hurt somehow.

It didn't take long thou, before a surprised sound came from above and he could hear hurried steps. And in the opening, a monster emerged. A man. A huge man. Some part of him wanted nothing more than get away, but he couldn't do more than wriggle in the highchair. So he faced the man instead and tried to intimidate him like you did to an inferior being; but highly and clearly state a firm 'sit!'

"Gahh!"

Had he been sitting closer to the table, or at least sitting more freely, his head would've hit the table-top in shame. Instead he had to settle by burying his head in his hands. This was beyond embarrassing. All the things he tried to do, despite his intention, nothing went the right way. That part of him that tried to escape just seconds ago, now conveyed the need to not let the man see him cry. But he did anyway. This was wrong! Everything was wrong...

The man stood there, agape, starring at the crying infant as if it was a monster sitting there. To the boy, who had yet to understand that he actually were an infant, this made a few things clear as he sneaked a peak through his fingers. Something was horrendously wrong about him, he was not supposed to be here... And these people didn't know either.

This was in all a terrible realization. He felt his throat clogging and his eyes burned even worse. What was going on? Why didn't he _know something!_ If he now were an infant he would have a mother at least!

_...Mother..._

No, he couldn't remember a mother... Or a father... But... Not because he couldn't remember! But because there wasn't supposed to be any! He was beginning to remember!

A rush of excitement died just as fast as it had arrived. He was someone who was supposed to be alone... That felt...

_...Empty..._

_...Lonely..._

_...Sad..._

The man was shooed away from the opening by the woman who were now holding a pudgy baby in her arms.

"Vernon, can you feed Dudley while I feed Harry?"

_Harry!_

_I am Harry!_

_How could I forget!_

The man called Vernon grabbed the baby called Dudley from the woman while glaring suspiciously at Harry. "Petunia dear, do you really think it's a good idea to have Dudley so close to... _that?" _

This made the woman turn to Vernon and she shot him a disapproving look.

"Vernon _dear, _are you saying that you think _me,_ growing up with Lily _damaged_ me in some way?"

The man shrank back from Petunia who walked towards Harry in order to feed him. The boy didn't know what to make of these people, but apparently they actually _did_ know what he was! And he were not the first of his kind whom they meet. The woman had after all grown up with another one, one named Lily...

..._Lily_...

But the man,Vernon feared his kind. Were he, Harry, evil? Or just dangerous? The woman, Petunia, didn't seem as bothered by him, other than the way she were manhandling him as she pulled him out of the highchair and put him in her lap. Which were bothering him instead!

"No, Petunia, my dearest! I would never say anything like that!" Vernon hurriedly said," You are the most beautiful and gentlest in the world, I'm just not so sure that it's good for a... a wizard... to grow up in a neighborhood like this! Anything out of the ordinary and both boys could be bullied by the other children, and you yourself mentioned the other day how Mrs. Stanton next door are like a vulture. Practically spying on the neighborhood to find something to gossip and discredit people with... It would be best if a_ wizarding family_ could take care of him. And what if he _accidentally_ happen to magic something up that could hurt _both boys? S_omething that a normal doctor couldn't help with... Don't you think that we should let_ relatives of Mr. Potter_ take care of his son? Someone who knows how to raise a magical child?"

This speech were extremely informative for Harry. First of all: he were a child. Second: he were a magical child, and these people didn't know how to handle magical children. But there were families of magical people, who was supposed to know how to handle/raise him! But why wasn't he in that kind of home? He eagerly listened to Petunias answer as he settled down and eyed the babyformula in a contemplating way.

Petunia sighed and looked down on the small boy in her lap. "I know that we aren't well equipped in raising a magical child, but neither were my parents and they didn't even know what Lily was." She tried to make Harry take the gruel, but he tried to take the bottle away from her instead and drink it by himself. Embarrassing enough his body were hungry and he wanted the babyformula, but watching how Vernon tried to feed Dudley and seeing the dull look in Dudleys eyes as the fevery now and then ended up on his cheeks, he could guess that this was the norm. Harry were much too proud to end up like that, at least not by the hands of another. He would feed himself, and properly at that.

"Except for the magic part, they're just like every other child. And as for the Potter family, James was the only child and his parents were well in their sixties when they had him. There are no one left from that side of the family."

_Oh..._

_I am Lily's son... And I probably know that she is gone. _

_...As well as James..._

"But what if the other children will bully Dudley because of his 'freak' cousin? Magic might protect... Harry... but, Dudley is completely normal."

Harry starred at his cousin. If Dudley were normal, he himself were truly a freak. And according to him, he were left with a better deal. Unless that dull look was plastered on his own face as well, then it were only one of many bad consequences that came with being a ... baby...

All pointed to him being an infant.

Petunia glanced at her husband before she let her eyes rest on Dudley. "That can happen even if there were no Harry, and I don't want to hear you call him that again I might add, but I have to agree that it would be more convenient to raise the boys in a less... appearance depending environment. When we moved here we hoped that it would provide our family with a stable upbringing, but do you remember in the beginning of my pregnancy?"

Vernon started to look grim; "Yes..."

"There was nothing but viciousness in the old hags!" Burst Petunia; "They had no reason to walk around and spread those lies. They just want to destroy other peoples happiness! You remember how you wouldn't believe me until I had a fatherhood test to prove that Dudley were yours and first when that ridiculous PI that you had following me, became one of my 'many lovers' according to Mrs. Parks that you began to trust my word! It almost destroyed our marriage!"

Harry was shocked to hear this, his mind were beginning to settle and he understood the context. There were people in this area that didn't prefer the truth to the drama that could be. And if he were all that different as he suspected, he would most certainly become a target. And so would Petunia, Vernon and Dudley. He could agree with Vernon's arguments, when thinking logically. And that part in the back of his mind wanted Petunia to give in. To give him away. But when he listened to Petunia, who now had the upper hand and had managed to get the rubber tip in between his lips, he felt that she wanted to take care of him. Something that he really wanted...

_She won't be my mother, but she will do her best..._

He gave in and started to suck some baby formula.

"Perhaps we should rethink our living here."

Vernon spluttered when he heard this. Clearly upset.

"B... But Petunia dear! We have mortgages! And we only moved here three years ago, saying that it would be the last!"

"I know... Let's not talk about it now, but I want you to consider it. Anyway, lets get you fed, and see you of to work. I'll handle the boys just fine 'til you come back, but you'll need to by a few things on the way home. We're not equipped to take care of two little boys as it is."

Since Harry seemed capable to feed himself, she left him with the bottle while she began to put the breakfast on the table for the adults. In Dudley's defense, much of the gruel that ended up on his cheeks were because of a distressed Vernon. Now he placed all the attention span that a one year old possessed on The Other Kid. It wasn't certain if Dudley would like to share his parents with Harry over a long period, but right now he stared and reached for his cousin as if he considered him a new toy. When Vernon held him back with a frightened glance at Harry he began to protest. Harry, in turn, seemed quite frightened himself for he leaned back, like if he was trying to get away. In fact a distinct echo inside his head told him to eat fast and not let the other kid take the bottle away.

Petunia and Vernon had almost gotten halfway through their breakfast he was done eating. Dudley had calmed down and were now satisfied to play with a napkin. Although it was more the ripping-apart thing he was interested in. To Harry this time had seemed quite peaceful, even when Vernon and Petunia occasionally argued over things that were put down on the shopping list. Petunia constantly jabbed at her husband with a pen. Every now and then she added or crossed a word on the notepad that she had placed next to her. Harry's mind became clearer and almost constantly now he seemed to know something more about the world. Small things, like the fact that Petunia liked purple and Vernon wanted a classic old car. After a few moments he even figured out what a car was. It made him wonder: It was almost like if he had just popped into existence right there on the porch and now received the info about his actual life.

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In the end Petunia took good care of little Harry and Vernon accepted the child in a few months as something that was there to stay. Harry and Dudley grew in to brotherhood. Occasionally fighting, but also cooperate against other coalitions, like the adults and the other kids in the neighborhood. In the end Petunia got her will through: After the speculations of Harry's origins began to buzz in the rumor mill. After hearing that Harry probably was Vernon's bastard child with a female employee in the drill company; Vernon found the idea of moving to be quite appealing. They soon moved to a little village called Little Hangleton. And Harry was truly a special child.

4


	2. Another Presence

**AN:  
><strong>Long time no see! Have you ever been frightened by your writing? I have. This chapter is the first part of the real chapter that was supposed to be the second chapter. When I first wrote it, it was in it's full. Then it grew in gigantic proportions. This part is just over 2400 words. The rest that is written is over 3100 words and that part is not even half done! I know that no one would be disappointed over a very, very long chapter :P But the mere amount and the time that had passed came over me and slowed down my writing in a frightening way... So to relieve myself of the shame and fear I've decided to put up this part as a separate chapter. The next part is in its singularity growing in size *Weak laughter*.

**Challenge:** Since I'm very curious of all the traditions and customs in the world I would like to challenge All who'd like to share their history, traditions, customs and other things that they themselves finds curious. In every chapter I will chose a subject and those who enjoy the exchange may give their version of the traditions in the reviews for all to read. This doesn't mean that other Swedes can't chip in, after all, traditions differ even in the same country. So... Up for some globalization? It will be in the end of the story, so that you'll have a chance to get to what you want and won't forget it if you don't want to :)

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**Fighting for your reward**

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**Chapter Two: Another Presence **

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Harry and Dudley sneaked closer to the old mansion. If they weren't careful old Mr. Bryce might catch them and he didn't like kids. Being only eight, the boys had already managed to get themselves a reputation and now some people refused to let them out of their sight, if their eyes caught either of the little trouble makers. Not that they weren't liked. It was well known that when in line of sight the boys were kind and polite and even quite willing to help. It was when they were bored that things started to happen.

Their teachers had actually complained more than once that alone they were talented in different ways, but together they were a pair of evil geniuses. Harry had an affinity to all the things that they were taught in class. In fact so had Dudley as well, but Harry was the one who answered the questions. The Dursley's avoided telling them that Harry had learned to read on his own. When he was so young that it seemed creepy to them and then he had proceeded to teach Dudley. It took Petunia three trips to the store to figure out that Dudley could read the labels almost as well as Harry. That was why his 'randomly' putting things in the basket always included sweets and cookies. He was so accurate, that he threw out the packages that were labeled 'sugar free' that she herself put in.

But even thou Harry always were a step ahead in school, and made sure that Dudley wasn't lagging behind, he was a small boy. One of the kinds that immediately was picked out in a larger group of children, the one that was supposed to be bullied. That part of Harry that he claimed was a completely different part of him, but the adults called it his intuition, seemed to growl at this. Harry had the distinct impression that it sat in a corner, mumbling about injustice of existence. But he had Dudley. Dudley might have been inclined to bullying himself, but to him, he was the only one that was allowed to fight with Harry. So whenever someone tried to single out Harry, Dudley was there. And he was a big boy. Not fat, but he would never be slim. And he was strong. His siding with Harry could have ended differently. They could both have been outcasts or have joined a bigger group and found another target, but in the end they ended up in a greyzone. They both had friends in the class and were mostly left alone by the older boys, but if Dudley weren't there Harry would either have to run or hide. A couple of times he was caught and what happened then often ended in Harry with big bruises or in the toilet. Of course Petunia and Vernon were upset about it and complained quite vocally. But the bullies had parents who refused to believe that their little angels could do anything as horrid as what Harry claimed and tried to twist it the other way around.

But in the end Harry always got his revenge. Right at this moment Harry and Dudley were planning; they wanted to see if there was something in the Riddle House. Something that could scare one obnoxious third grader. A boy who incidentally had led the last pack of Betas trying to be Alphas, which had been achieved by beating up a small and scrawny kid. But now the two cousins had a problem at hand. Dudley found the ghost stories exiting, but Harry was frightened to his very core by the house. His inner voice begged him to get away. Tried to take over his limbs and move the boy away from the menacing building. He actually trusted that part of him. Fully. It had helped him in thousands of ways, but now it was an obstructing force. The only logical conclusion were after all, that if it were this frightened there had to be something scary in there. The only problem was that he couldn't move himself closer to that blasted house! Dudley shot him a glance and urged him to put a move on. Mr Bryce could show up anytime.

"Harry! Move!" He hissed at the smaller boy. Harry once again tried to comply, but in vuyain.

"I can't!" He croaked, looking at his cousin with desperate eyes. Even thou Dudley wanted to call him a chicken and flap his arms as if they were wings the situation called for stealth and swiftness, not loud mockery.

Dudley realized that Harry wasn't going to move on his own and so went on to simply drag the smaller boy towards the basement window, that he considered their best entrance. Harry's body tried to resist, but he managed to keep quiet during the short trip. Dudley crunched next to the window, pulling his cousin down next to him. Letting go of Harry, he went to work on the window. He had a knack at opening windows and doors. Locks seemed to open at Dudley's touch. A few nervous minutes later the window was open. He brutally grabbed Harry, who still fought with himself, and pushed him through the window before he jumped after.

Harry landed painfully on his back which surprised him enough to scramble upright or perhaps his body just wanted to get him to a running stance. In normal case he always landed on his feet. A result of a serious case of climb-mainia and some misjudgment concerning appropriate things to climb. But now he was fighting against outright fear and he was loosing.

"Dudley! Let's go back! We'll figure out something else!" Harry cried. Dudley answered by smacking him in the back of the head.

"Stop that! If you wet your pants, it'll just prove that this is a good idea!"

Harry grumbled, but his arm wouldn't move from its guarded pose to rub the sore spots on his body. This was getting frustrating and he began to fear for a new danger. If this continued he might lose his body to the presence inside of him.

"Dudley...There's something inside me!" This got Dudley's attention, but not in the way Harry wanted.

"You ate a bug!" he looked disgusted and began hitting Harry's back as if it were a cough. Harry stumbled to his knee from the force, now so scared that he almost began to cry, being only a child. But he didn't, for he was surprisingly brave, by any standards. But right now he felt really, really small.

"No! Not a bug! Its like..! I can't say...! It's the house! Let's get away from here! Please..." Now even Dudley seemed a bit spooked, but he put on a brave face. It's always easier to be brave if someone else is scared.

"Cut it out!" Dudley demanded.

"I know... But there are other ways! We always find other ways, lets do it now again... Lets put laxative in his lunch box... or steal his pants when he's in the shower! Something else... Please Dudley! I shouldn't be here!" It was a voice of pleading, and not the same as the one used when trying to persuade his aunt or uncle, but one from a different source of experience, a different life. This was a different Harry, and it was enough to convince Dudley to get out of the house.

"Alright, but you think of something better then!" He turned back to the window, and climbed a box to reach back up, but dodged after a quick glance out. "Mr Bryce is there!" He hissed. Harry looked at his cousin with huge eyes.

"Please get us out..." He whispered, still on his knees, looking like he was in a pray, awaiting his executioner. Dudley came to the realization that not only was something wrong, but Harry needed him in away that he could not provide for and that was a big responsibility for a eight year old little boy.

Knowing fully well that exiting through the window now, when Mr Bryce was tending the garden in the back, was practically suicidal. He came to the conclusion that the front door was safe for the moment and it would be a quick and easy escape. He strode to Harry and pulled him up;

"The front door. Let's go."

Harry was relived at the thought of getting out and struggled to keep up with Dudley, but for every step forward it was like a part of his soul was becoming a casualty of war. Inside of him the emotions grew stronger. He could feel a conflict between not only himself and that inner voice, but now there was another presence. One that seemed almost vicious in comparison. He wanted to throw up. He wanted to go home, crawl up in the couch with a blanket and a cup of warm tea, while watching TV and have Aunt Petunia fuss over him. He was sick... But the battle was not one of a normal sickness. He was urged to move on by the vicious voice, and he was to scarred not to. Desperate he grasped for the voice he had always known and considered his guardian angel. He almost choked on the bloodthirst that came surging.

Dudley almost carried his cousin up the kitchen stairs more scarred every moment by what he saw in Harry's face. He rushed past the dusty kitchen sinks pulling the smaller boy behind him. Wishing desperately for this to be over, but as they struggled through the corridors the situation escalated.

The battle inside Harry quieted and he felt a kind of peace. Then he saw them. There were people in the dining room: An old couple and a middle aged man. He grabbed Dudley and held him back. Dudley was startled and released his grip on his cousin mid stride, causing him to almost topple over from unbalance. Harry pushed himself against the wall and held his finger to his lips. Signing silence. Dudley hurried towards him when he saw Harry's eyes enlarge as he stared past him at the front door. Sure that their presence had been discovered by Mr Bryce, Dudley froze up, stiffened his back and prepared to turn around and face the consequences. Hopefully he could help Harry or at least get them out of the house as fast as he could throw them. But when he turned, he saw nothing.

What Harry saw was a boy; a teenager, sneaking in through the front door and stalking towards them with a stick in his hand. They were in his direct line of sight, but he took no notice of them. He scared Harry. Pressing himself at the wall, as if attempting to meld with it. He saw the boy walk past Dudley, who acted as if he didn't saw anyone, and in to the dining room. He saw the three in there react to the boy. He saw the boy wave a stick as if it was a magic wand, and he saw how, one by one, the grownups, in shock, fell to the ground in a frighteningly familiar green light. Dead. The boy turned and locked eyes with Harry. Harry felt his inside tear and cry as the teenager contemplated him. Then the world turned red.

"Harry!" Dudley cried as his cousin collapsed on the floor in an outbreak of pain, clutching his forehead where blood was gushing out between his fingers, but still staring into the thin air in front of him. Fear was rolling off the boy. Dudley grabbed Harry's arm with extra strength and determined to not let him go this time; he dragged him towards the door.

Harry continued to stare at the teen as he was pulled away from him. The boy just stood there, letting his eyes follow Harry's, until Harry stumbled and for just a second looked away. When he looked back, the teen was gone. He turned to shout at Dudley that they had to hurry, when he saw a reflection in the mirror. He saw Dudley desperately aiming for the exit, dragging along... the teen... holding a hand over a bleeding forehead, starring back at him with a shocked expression.

"It's me..." Dudley heard and spun around to face the small boy in his clutches "Harry!" he screamed while wildly shaking his cousin, hoping for all this to be over. "Are you okay!"

Harry's eyes were unfocused as he answered: "I killed them... I'm the teen..." He began to shake and his eyes rolled up in his head as he promptly fainted. Dudley backed away from his cousin, turned and bolted our through the door. Once outside he screamed for help, and ran towards the back, where he hoped Mr Bryce would be, not caring that he would get yelled at. He was too afraid.

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Later that evening, after hearing the story from Dudley and Harry had woken up at the hospital, Petunia sat down to write a letter she never thought she would write. She had written only one letter to this recipient before. She simply had to write down the name and where she hoped he lived, seal it, put a stamp on and then send it. Vernon posted it the next day on his way to work.

In the evening the letter was caught in the sorting by the great sorting machine in London, where a frighteningly high percent of all the letters of Great Britain passed through. It simply sloshed it in a old linen bag, and it then fell out of another which was hung upside down at Diagon Alley's very own post office. The letter was there bound to one of their owls, and sent on its way.

In the morning Albus Dumbledore found the letter in the morning mail. He first only fingered on the white, fabricated envelope but when he was done with all the other letters, except those that he simply threw in to the fire, he opened it. After having read through it several times to make sure that he'd throughly understood what it implied, he left his office to Little Hangleton. Only taking a small detour as he passed the great Hall, where he let Minerva McGonagall know that he was leaving and that he would take young Severus with him.

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TBC

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**_Challenge Topic 1: _**Since the Christmas just passed, let's vent that. I know that not all people celebrate Christmas, but what does it mean to those who don't?

To me Christmas is just an excuse to give and receive gifts, as well as to meet my whole family and try to feel like a part of it. Traditionally we all gather in the home of the "chosen"-family member. Chosen for reasons like the one who shouted the loudest, the one that simply arranged everything or with the parents plain and simply. During the day (The 24th of December), three main things are tradition. Atleast for all atheist like me and my family. I know that some people goes to church in the morning, not most families thou. By the way; How many knows that Jesus wasn't traditionally thought to be born in December, but rather sometime in October? The reason why it's celebrated in December is because there was a pagan celebration then and since they wouldn't stop celebrating it, the Roman Church which also practically created Christianity for a uniting religion that would fit their society, declared the 25th of December to be Jesus birthday. That's politics for you.

**Donald Duck:** I think it's called Mickey Mouse's Christmas in English. It was dubbed sometimes in the sixties I think and since then it's been shown on channel One around three o'clock on Christmas eve. Traditionally the whole family gather to watch the show, but my family is worthless when it comes to stuff like that. Me and my boyfriend, David, spent the eve with my Dad and his family. When it started Dad, his wife Klodina, Grandma Anna, my half brother and sister: Johannes and Felicia, as well as me and David sat down to watch. Five minutes in someone mentions that it's rare for all of them to gather for the same show and sit together. That it's nice and everyone agrees. Five minutes later only me and David remain and spend the rest of the hour watching the show. That's bad.

**Christmas Dinner:** The dinner is very important. It's also extremely traditional which means that almost everything on the table have been served in the same way since the 18th century, if not for longer. First of all there's the Christmas Ham; A big piece of ham that you salt for two weeks and boil it till it reaches 73-75 degrees Celsius. Then you mix breadcrumbs, egg and mustard which you spread on top of it before you grill it till it gets a nice color. Most people buy it pre-salted and boiled, so they'll have to grill it to the right temperature. Then there's the Jansson's Temptation: You slice potato into stalks, then you layer it with anchovy and onion in a ovenproof form, pepper it and pore fresh cream over it, followed by breadcrumbs and then put it in the oven. You also have to have homemade meatballs. Bought meatballs means you're a failure, lazy or just down right hate Christmas. I don't know what it's called in English, but ther's also tradition to serve "Prince sausage"; basically small and cute sausages. Vörtbread is a must. A spicy bread only available around Christmas. Traditionally it contains raisins, but since people are getting picky, they can be found without it as well. Cheddar is traditional, but received with different grades of joy. (Personally I don't like that kind of cheese.) Brusslesprouts, redcabbage (I think it's boiled with some kind of vinegar) and also greencabage (boiled as well, no vinegar thou) will appear on the table. Then there's different types of Pickled Herring. Everyone have different favorites and trying to please them will often result in an enormous range of pickled herring. Then there's _Rullsylta_, the only translation I managed to find is Collared Brawn. It doesn't sound right thou. Basically it's the parts of a pig that's not used otherwise, boil it with pepper, bayleaf and other spices. Then you pour it in a form and let the natural gelatin set. There's always more things on the table, but they're different from family to family. To drink you normaly serve _Julmust_, amusingly translated to "Wheel-must", since jul = Christmas is so similar to hjul = wheel. It's the one soda that'll out sell Coka Cola during christmas. It's only sold during Christmas and Easter. But during Easter it's called _Påskmust_, Påsk = Easter.

**Santa Clause:**The opening of the Christmas gifts. Still on Christmas eve, the whole family gather in the room where the Christmas tree is and wait for Santa, eating Christmas candy like Ice chocolate, _knäck_ (some sort of caramel/toffe) and Rice a la Malta. I don't know why it's called Rice a la Malta. It's riceporidge that's mixed with whipped cream and choped clementine. Then you all sit there waiting for Santa Clause to come. Often it's one of the men in the family who say that they'll go out with the dog or to buy the newspaper, who'll go out, dress up in a Santa suite, pick up a bag of gifts that's been placed outside, walk around the house or block, for the children to see and marvel. Then they come inside asking if there's any nice children there and then they begin giving out the gifts, then they open the gifts after Santa has left. Other times it's arranged between dads and their friends from work. They walk, as Santa, over to each other so that the whole family can be together during the opening of the presents.

**That's all from me, now have fun with it and I hope to see your own versions! / Cecilia**


End file.
